


A Guide to Proper Living

by regardinglove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coach Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gay Panic, M/M, One Shot, Prince Dean, Prince Sam, Queen Mary, Royalty, Royalty AU, gay slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no need for Dean Winchester to attend Edlund’s Finishing School for Princes. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, and he did punch a Chinese diplomat in the face last week, and he constantly swears like a sailor, but that shouldn’t damn him to spending his entire senior year of college at a finishing school in the middle of nowhere. At least, that’s what he thinks. His mother’s plans are quite different. </p><p>Royalty AU where Dean is a playboy prince who is unfit to rule a country, and Castiel is hired to be Dean's etiquette coach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide to Proper Living

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot work. I didn't intend for it to get this long, but it ended up being 8K+ words regardless. This is a fic about royalty, but it probably isn't accurate to how monarchies and royalty works. Qual is a fake land, so let's just assume that they have different royal customs. I didn't really do any research on the topic, so sorry if there are inaccuracies. 
> 
> Other than that though, I hope you enjoy this fic!

There is no need for Dean Winchester to attend Edlund’s Finishing School for Princes. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, and he did punch a Chinese diplomat in the face last week, and he constantly swears like a sailor, but that shouldn’t damn him to spending his entire senior year of college at a finishing school in the middle of nowhere. At least, that’s what he thinks. His mother’s plans are quite different.  
  
“Mom, I don’t need finishing lessons!” Dean Winchester groans loudly, his mouth full of half eaten steak.  
  
Mary Winchester, the epitome of grace and beauty, puts down her fork and glares back at her son with an icy look, her arms crossed over her chest tightly.  
  
“Dean, earlier today you told the president of Roman Enterprises to ‘go screw himself with a jackhammer,” she chastises in a harsh tone, “and you’re talking with your mouth full right now! And do I have to mention that you’re wearing a t-shirt at La Roux? Look around you, Dean; you stick out like a sore thumb.”  
  
He glances around the space and huffs out a breath. All he sees are stuffy businessmen in suits and ladies dressed in the fanciest getups they can afford. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and a cellist plays classical music in the corner. It is everything Dean hates about this life he leads and more; he has to stop himself from gagging when he sees three ladies look in his direction and giggle.  
  
“Honey, listen,” his mother says softly, bringing his attention back to her. “I’m just trying to help you. As the eldest son you are set to take over your father’s position as king. You cannot be the heir dressed like that.”  
  
He looks down at his crumpled shirt and worn jeans. “What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed? This is who I am, Mom,” Dean says harshly, shoving another piece of steak in his mouth. He talks around the food and growls, “I’m a grunt; why not just have Sammy take over? You know he’s the son who’s cut out for this.”  
  
“Dean Winchester, you do not sass me,” she whispers lowly, eyeing Dean with clear annoyance. “I’m just trying to help you. You know perfectly well that the eldest son is the heir to the throne; that’s you, like it or not, and unless you clean up your act this summer you’ll be spending your final year of college at Edlund; the choice is yours.”  
  
Dean glares down at his steak and pushes it aside, his appetite suddenly sated. The classical music, the prying eyes, the paparazzi lingering outside the window trying to get a glimpse of Queen Mary Winchester of Qual and her rebel son, it all makes his stomach turn. He’s never wanted this life his family leads, never enjoyed the fame and fortune that comes with being royal. Even as a child he hated seeing his face plastered over every magazine in town, his latest antics being paraded in front of the entire community. He can’t even leave his house without a personal security detail following lest the paps eat him alive.  
  
Besides, he is not cut out to be a king of Qual. He isn’t his father, a man who is all business and no fun. He’s not his brother, a genius who is also ridiculously polite and everything a prince should be. No, Dean is none of those things. Instead he’s the rebel son, the one whose all night club sessions and flings with any woman who will give him the time of day make headlines.  He’s the disappointment, the boy who the country does not think fit to be king. Hell, Dean doesn’t think he could be king. Is it such a surprise that the citizens of Qual feel the same? Why does he need to attend a stuffy school for princes when it’s clear he’s not going to rule anyway?  
  
“Dean, are you listening to me at all?”  
  
His mother’s voice pulls his attention back to the present. He looks up and meets a pair of very annoyed sapphire blue eyes, her mouth pushed down into a tiny frown.  
  
“Uh…” he trails off. “Sort of? What did you say again?”  
  
Mary sighs heavily and leans in closer to Dean’s ear. He ignores the waitress that is giving him bedroom eyes from across the room. “There is another option. If you don’t want to attend Edlund in the fall then you can get an etiquette coach. I know of one in particular who is the best in the nation and who would be a great match for you.”  
  
He gapes at his mother and then rolls his eyes. “Etiquette coach? Really? I might as well be carted off to Edlund right now!”  
  
“Fine then. I’ll call up the president of Edlund and arrange for you to move in next week.”  
  
Dean watches as she fishes into her purse and pulls out her phone, her fingers flying over the buttons.  
  
“Okay, okay! I get it!” Dean exclaims, causing a few patrons to gape in his direction. “I’ll take the etiquette classes if it means I don’t have to be carted off to a finishing school of all boys. Talk about lame,” Dean mutters under his breath, his body slouching farther into the chair.  
  
“Excellent,” Mary says jovially, canceling the call to dial a new number instead. Dean glares at anyone who passes by while his mother leans back in her chair, her perfectly manicured nails tapping along with the music. When someone on the other line answers, her face lights up immediately.  
  
“Hello, I’d like to speak to Castiel Novak please. Tell him it’s Mary Winchester and it’s urgent.”  
  
  
   
The next day a knock at his bedroom door awakes him. Dean flips over and glares at the numbers on his clock. Who is looking for him at the 7:50 in the morning? He’s about to say ‘screw it’ and go back to sleep when the knocking gets louder and more persistent, an unfamiliar voice calling out to him from beyond the wooden barrier.  
  
“Will you calm down?” Dean calls harshly as he throws open the door, expecting to find a servant or the new butler they hired last week. Instead Dean is taken aback by a man he’s never seen before, a man with ridiculously blue eyes and the stiffest posture he’s ever witnessed.  
  
“Um, hello?” the man asks in a low and rough voice, his eyes trailing over Dean’s body.  
  
Dean automatically realizes that he has no shirt on and is only clad in boxers. He quickly grabs the robe off the door and puts it over his body, throwing the man a harsh glare.  
  
“Dude, what're you doin’?” he asks roughly. “Dudes don’t look at other dudes that way; it’s not cool!”  
  
“Apologizes, Mr. Winchester,” the man says, looking away awkwardly. “I did not get to introduce myself. I’m Castiel Novak, your etiquette coach. I thought you knew I was coming…” he trails off.  
  
“Does it look like I knew about this?” Dean gestures to his form, but this Castiel isn’t glancing away. Instead he’s devouring Dean, his eyes raking over every little dip in his chest. “And stop looking at me like that!”  
  
Castiel breaks out of the trance and automatically stumbles back, his body hitting the wall behind him. “Again, I’m sorry. Could you please put some clothes on? You’re horribly distracting that way.”  
  
“Yeah, I have the same problem with women,” Dean mutters under his breath as he goes into his room, throwing in a hoodie and a pair of jeans over his boxer clad body. He runs a quick hand through his hair and takes a deep sigh before he turns back to Castiel. He clenches his fists and avoids that intense gaze that is fixated on him while trying fruitlessly to ignore the blush that is rising to his cheeks.  
  
“Are you ready to begin?” Castiel asks, his head tilting to the side as he takes Dean in.  
  
He coughs awkwardly. “Uh, yes? What are we doing exactly?”  
  
Castiel Novak’s smile turns up at the corners of his mouth as he walks out of the room. “You’ll see, Dean. Now follow me. We’ve got a lot of learning to do.” 

  
  
  
“This will be your Bible for the next two months. You will read it, live it, learn it. There will be tests, and I will be reporting your progress back to Mary. Now put that book on your head and walk.”  
  
Dean stares at Castiel harshly and grabs the textbook from the man’s hands, flipping through the pages. It’s filled with Qual’s laws, history, stories of past royals, everything he should know already but doesn’t. Just looking at the words on the page makes Dean’s stomach turn, knowing that there is no way that he will be able to memorize all of this.  
  
“Why?” Dean whines, trying to balance the book on his head. Of course it wobbles over and falls to the ground, and Dean can hear Castiel’s loud groan when he reaches down to grasp it.  
  
“If you want to be king then you have to look like one. The first rule is no walking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and you’re already broken it a thousand times since I met you this morning. If you can walk with that book on your head, then you’re doing it right. If not, then you’re walking like an imbecile and I will not stand for it. Go.”  
  
Dean glares at Castiel and tries to balance the book on his head. It doesn’t help that all Winchesters are born with watermelon skulls and that this task will probably be impossible, but Dean gives it a go. He places the textbook and waits for it to balance, then takes one step forward. The book doesn’t topple so Dean takes another step, and then another. It’s all going well until the tenth step, when Dean trips on the carpet and the book goes falling to the ground.  
  
“Again,” Castiel commands from across the room.  
  
He glances down at the offending textbook and grabs it, trying once more. It falls ungracefully to the floor with a thump and Castiel’s voice rings out, telling him to try again. Dean follows this process for about ten more times before Castiel huffs out a breath and crosses the room to where Dean is punching the book.  
  
“You’re not focusing enough, Dean. Here, try this.”  
  
Hands appear on his back and Dean automatically jumps, not expecting the contact. Castiel reaches forward and lays one palm on his chest, the other on his shoulders, and adjusts Dean’s figure until it is completely vertical. He tries to ignore the fact that the hands linger a bit longer than necessary.  
  
“Now try it; it’s easy to hold the position if you clench your stomach muscles.” Castiel grabs the book from Dean’s grip and places it precariously on his head. “Now walk.”  
  
He obeys and begins his trek forward, trying to stay perfectly straight. He dips a little and catches himself before the book falls, automatically snapping back into the position Castiel adjusted him to. Dean walks and walks, the book never faltering from its position, and when Dean reaches the other side of the room with the book still in place he can’t help but be proud.  
  
“Very good, Dean,” Castiel calls as he approaches, taking the book off Dean’s head. “But that was only the first lesson for today.”  
  
“First?” Dean asks. “But what else do I need to know?”  
  
Castiel grins. “Come with me, Dean. Now we’re going to learn about ballroom etiquette.”  
  


  
  
The next few days fly by in a blur of aggravation as Castiel teaches Dean everything he needs to know about being a king. He trains Dean in the proper way of ballroom dancing on Saturday, then goes on to dinner manners on Sunday. By Monday, Dean’s positive that he is going to punch Castiel the next time he sees him because he’s dreaming about the waltz now, and Castiel’s low voice is ringing in his ears constantly. It’s utterly annoying, and working with Novak every single day is not a party. The man is uptight, annoying, and wouldn’t know fun if it came and slapped him across the face. Dean suggested last night that they go out on the town, try to hook Castiel up with one of the lovely ladies down at Angelz, but he refused, telling Dean that this behavior was not appropriate for a future king and that he was to stop immediately. Who does he think he is? A king can do whatever he pleases; that’s why he’s the king, and if that includes watching strippers down at Angelz make bedroom eyes at him, then so what? However, Dean does take extra care to leave the castle without detection that night, knowing Castiel probably reported all of Dean’s plans back to his mother and she’s probably on the lookout.  
  
“Dean? Are you listening at all?”  
  
He comes back to the present as Castiel hits him with the back of his hand. He’s in the dining hall with an array of plates and utensils in front of him, and he’s supposed to identity what everything is. Apparently it’s wrong that Dean eats all of his food on one plate, and the fact that he doesn’t know the difference between forks is barbaric to Castiel.  
  
“Whatddya say?” Dean asks quickly, trying to catch up with the conversation.    
  
Castiel huffs and points harshly at the utensil in front of him. “I asked you what that is, Dean. Answer.”  
  
Dean growls and crosses his arms over his chest tightly, not even caring that he’s acting like a child. “Don’t you try and boss me around, Novak,” he grunts.  
  
“Do you want to end up at Edlund?” Castiel asks.  
  
“No…” Dean trails off.  
  
“Then answer the question. What is that utensil in front of you?”  
  
Dean shoves the dinnerware away and gets up from his seat. “It’s a freaking fork, Castiel. I’m not an idiot.”  
  
“I never said you were,” Castiel says in a tone barely above a whisper. “I’m trying to get you out of Edlund-”  
  
“And you don’t need to do that by treating me like I’m a freaking fetus!” Dean yells, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean dammit Cas, I’m twenty-one years old for goodness sakes and I’m in college. I’m getting a poly-sci degree and you’re treatin’ me like I can’t count to five. What’s with that? Do you think I’m stupid because I’m not!”  
  
The room falls absolutely silent and Dean’s words fill the air, and Castiel turns away from his heavy glare.  
  
“Did you just call me Cas?” Castiel says.  
  
Dean can’t believe this. After everything he just admitted, this is what Cas takes away? “Yeah, I thought it was easier than saying ‘Castiel’ every time. It’s a mouthful of a name.”  
  
He hears a little laugh come from Castiel’s body, but the man remains facing the opposite side of the room.  
  
“I don’t think you’re dumb, Dean. In fact, I think quite the opposite. I see an intelligence in you, one that if nurtured could turn you into a great and wise king. However, the constant resistance to my teaching methods is not going to get you there. I don’t mean to belittle you, but so far you have not shown me that you are willing to make an effort. That’s why I’m treating you this way.”  
  
Dean frowns and turns back to Castiel, looking the man in the eye. There is a dedication there behind the gaze, one that looks like he gives a damn about Dean’s place as the king of Qual after all. It’s almost like Cas wants Dean to be the king, but that’s impossible. He doesn’t care what happens to Dean after their time together is over. Cas is a robot; he can’t care, can he?    
  
“I’m sorry,” Dean blurts out, even though he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. “I will take this seriously from now on. Oh and that’s a fork, since you’re asking.”  
  
Castiel smiles and looks up at Dean with impossibly blue eyes. “It’s a salad fork, technically.”  
  
Dean groans. “There are different types of forks now?! Since when?”  
  
“Since ever; now will you please sit down and let me explain proper utensil usage to you?”  
  
He scowls but his heart isn’t behind it, and he takes a seat as Cas drones on about forks, etiquette, and the one time he accidentally poured wine on the Queen of England. It gets Dean to laugh, but that little voice is nagging in the back of his head. It’s telling him that Castiel is still an asshole, and that this carefree, almost funny Cas will be gone soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.  
  
However, for the night Dean listens to Cas’s many tales about elite parties and affairs. They laugh, drink wine, and for one moment in time Dean wonders if Cas isn't a big asshole after all.  
  


  
  
“Dean, who are you taking to The Carver Ball tomorrow?” Castiel asks.  
  
He looks up from his textbook and runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly, his thoughts filled with names and dates of the royals of Qual from decades ago.  
  
“Nobody. Why?”  
  
Cas walks over to the table where Dean is sitting and takes a place across from him. “You need to bring a date to this dance, Dean. If you don’t put up the front that you have a significant other to rule with you, then the people will question it. You’re young, handsome, and any man or woman in Qual would want you. It’s a show, that’s all. Is there someone you know who can be your date? Anyone at all?”  
  
Dean runs through the list of one night stands he’s had in his head, but none of the names stick out. They were all with people he’s met in bars, strip clubs, and other less than decent locals. He didn’t get the reputation of being a playboy by dating anyone for a large amount of time.  
  
“No Cas, I don’t think I have anyone to take. Why can’t I go alone again? Is it that big of a deal?”  
  
Cas leans his elbows on the table and cups his head in his palms. “Dean, listen for one second. This is the biggest ball in Qual. All the royals in the world will be here and you have to put on a good show. If you don't have a date then it will only give off the image that you're a playboy. Your mother explicitly told me to find you a date, if only for appearances, and if you don’t have anyone then I will have to set you up myself.”  
  
Dean cringes at the thought of Cas setting him up. It would probably be with one of his terrible sisters he always talks about, or his friend Meg whom Dean had the misfortune of meeting once. No, he will find himself a random person on the street to take before he lets Cas set him up with anyone.  
  
“I will call up Jo, see if she wants to go. But I’m curious…who would you set me up with if I had no one?”  
  
Cas looks at Dean like it’s obvious. “Me, of course.”  
  
Dean’s face must look like a deer in the headlights because Cas stares back at him with that birdlike expression.  
  
“Is…that a problem with you?”  
  
_Yeah, it’s a problem!_ Dean’s thoughts screech out, because there is no way he’s going to a ball with Castiel Novak as his fake date. Sure, he’s past the absolute loathing part of his relationship with Cas, but they’re far from friends and them showing up together at this ball would lead to more appearances together, and Dean is not cool with that. Even though he can tolerate Cas, he can’t bring him as a date. No, he will call up Jo and send a private jet over to Oxford to pick her up. Dean will call Lisa, his ex-girlfriend who told him to never see her again, before he goes out on a fake date with Castiel Novak.  
  
“No…not a problem at all,” Dean says while his mind throws up a question mark. _What the hell are you saying, doofus?!_ “Actually…how about we just do that, Cas?” _NO, LET’S NOT DO THAT YOU IDIOT._  
  
Cas grins back at Dean and even blushes a little, which makes Dean’s gut twitch. “Okay, that’s a plan. I’ll be by your room at five.”  
  
“Great!” Dean calls as Cas leaves the room, but his head is filled with questions. Why did he agree to that? What good will come out of this?  
  
Dean sighs as he turns back to his textbook, and he tries not to think about Castiel Novak in a tux. 

 

  
  
_This is stupid. This is going to be one big ball of crap and why did I agree to this again?_  
  
Dean looks at himself in the mirror and grimaces at his image. He looks ridiculous in this tux his mother bought for him [made from the best fabrics in Italy, apparently] and the stupid mask he has to wear only makes it look more dorky. Nobody told him it was a masquerade ball until today so he had to buy a mask in town and face all the prying eyes of the community. Apparently a new tabloid caught him at Angelz the night before and now a certain blonde woman is the talk of the town. Is she the future Princess? The only laughter Dean gets from it is the thought of the tabloids tomorrow when he shows up with a dark haired man as his date.  
  
And then Dean’s pulse is racing again when he thinks about the fact that he’s going out with Castiel Novak. It doesn’t matter that it’s fake; to everybody watching it will be real, and that enough is causing Dean to sweat. He doesn’t have a clue as to how he’s going to convince an entire ballroom of royals that he likes his date, and is totally lost on how he will convince them that they’re an item. Truth is, Dean’s tried to warm up to Castiel over the past few weeks. He’s attempted to bring up conversation that isn't about Dean’s training, but all of Dean’s topics fell flat. Castiel is into classic literature and fancy red wine tastings, not the strip clubs and cars Dean’s into. They have nothing in common, and Dean’s given up on trying to form a friendship with the man. Besides, Cas is only going to be around for a few months before he goes back into whatever hole he crawled out of; even if they did find friendship, it wouldn’t last.  
  
“Dean? Are you ready to go?”  
  
He turns around towards the door and is taken aback by what he finds. In the doorway stands a replica of Constantine, a man clad in a navy suit and tan trench coat over top. The navy mask he wears hides most of his face, but those trademark cerulean eyes stand out from behind the covering. He’s…gorgeous.  
  
Dean shakes his head when he realizes who is behind that mask, and all of the unmanly, tingly feelings in his gut subside.  
  
“Uh…you look good, Novak,” he stammers, an uncalled for redness rising to his cheeks. “Really good.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel replies back in that low voice he slips into when he’s nervous, and Dean doesn’t want to think about how he knows that. “You look like a prince.”  
  
“Well, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way. Now c’mon, Cas. We’re gonna be late to my own party if we don’t hop down to the ballroom ASAP.”  
  
Cas walks up next to Dean and links their hands together. Dean automatically lets go and jumps back.  
  
“What…what are ya doing?” Dean exclaims.  
  
Cas flushes red with embarrassment and shoves his hand in his jacket. “We are supposed to be putting on a show and I thought that would sell it more…”  
  
Dean cringes when he remembers that he has a role to play tonight, then feels bad for pushing Cas away. With a smile, Dean comes back over to Cas and grabs his hand once more, interlocking their fingers together in what an outsider would think is a romantic grip. He ignores the fact that the minute their fingers touch, Dean’s pulse begins to race.  
  
“You’re right; this will sell it a lot better. Are you ready to go…honey?”  
  
Cas grins back and drags him out of the room and into the fray. “Yeah…love. Let’s go.”  
  
  
  
“Introducing Miss. Sarah Blake of Parrish, escorted by her date, Prince Sam Winchester of Qual.”  
  
Applause erupts into the air as Dean’s little brother and his girlfriend walk to the edge of the stairs. Sam is dressed to impress in a ruby suit that only he could pull off, and Sarah is absolutely radiant in her navy blue dress. They smile for the cameras and then they’re off, walking down the stairs with their arms intertwined.  
  
Dean gulps when the announcer beckons him and Cas forward. It’s almost as if the eyes of everyone in the room are eating into body, causing a light panic to rise in his gut. He hopes Cas doesn’t notice that he grips their hands together a bit tighter, but he doesn’t dare look over to see Cas’s expression right now.  
  
“You ready?” Cas’s low voice whispers in his ear.  
  
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Dean replies back.  
  
The announcer looks down at his paper and then calls out their names with a little grin on his face. “Introducing Mr. Castiel Novak of Qual, escorted by his date, Prince Dean Winchester of Qual.”  
  
The crowd automatically falls silent at the words, and instead of the roaring applause Sam and Sarah received, all him and Cas get is stunned whispers and little giggles. Yeah, he can already visualize the headlines now. _Dean Winchester has a gay thing!_  
  
It should make him cringe, make him want to grab the nearest girl and lay one on her just to prove a point, but something has changed in Dean. It’s almost as if he likes the idea of being with a man, and for a split second he looks back on all his relationships and notices that they were all built on sex and not love. Castiel’s hand is curled around his and for one moment in time, Dean feels a flutter of something new in his stomach. However, the holler of one disruptive guest brings him out of it.  
  
“I didn’t know they let _fags_ rule. What a letdown,” a voice calls out in the back.  
  
Dean automatically tenses and turns to find the voice. It belongs to a stout man who is clearly all talk. He’s got graying hair and a pudgy belly with a beer in his hand, and he’s already swaying on his feet from the inebriation.  
  
He doesn’t think before he strides over, a protesting Cas still in hand.  
  
“Do you think you’re funny, smartass?” Dean growls lowly, his fingers curling around Cas’s grip tightly.  
  
“Dean…think about what you’re doing,” Cas warns in his ear, but Dean’s having none of it.  
  
He brings their entwined hands up to the man’s face. “Is this a problem?”  
  
“I’m sorry Prince Winchester,” the man sneers. “I just don’t think a slutty _fag_ should be running our country, that’s all.”  
  
The fire growing in his belly flames outward into an inferno, and then Dean pushes Cas away to punch the man in the face. He falls backwards into the crowd but Dean is nowhere near finished. He stalks forward with urgency and grabs the man by the lapels of his jacket, their faces inches apart.  
  
“Tell me your name, asshole,” Dean whispers.  
  
“It’s Metatron,” the other man calls back.  
  
“Well Metadouche, you’ve poked the wrong person.” Dean’s hand flies back and another punch lands on the man’s face. Metatron howls out in pain and then Dean goes in for another blow, this time to the groin. The man yells and falls to the ground, but Dean just keeps going, throwing punch after punch in an endless, fiery attack until a pair of hands grab him from behind, clutching him close.  
  
“Dean! It’s over!” Cas’s rough voice calls out among the chatter, breaking Dean’s focus. He automatically relaxes into Cas’s arms and lets himself be dragged out of the room and away from the prying eyes. When they’re safe away in one of the dens, Cas blows up into a tornado of angry, chastising words.  
  
“Cas-“ he begins, but Novak is not having it.  
  
“What the hell was that, Dean?!” Cas yells, his eyes bright and livid. “It was a comment, one that was supposed to irk you. You let it get to you, and kings do not let that happen! What were you thinking attacking that guy?”  
  
“I wasn’t, okay! Dammit Cas, I was acting on instinct. Besides, who uses a gay slur in this day of age? Guy deserved it!”  
  
“But you’re a future king, and that’s not how you act. You could’ve reprimanded him, could’ve told him to leave, but instead you punched him and kicked him while he’s down. That is not acceptable, Dean! Not acceptable!”  
  
“You don’t use gay slurs around me. You never do that ever, but especially not around me. I’m a prince; I brought justice-“  
  
“You brought chaos!”  
  
Dean looks at Cas with a fury in his eyes, not believing that Cas can be okay with Metatron’s actions. How can he just let this idiot get away with being an ass?  
  
“I can’t believe you. He’s an ass! He deserved it!”  
  
“Maybe, but kings don’t handle business that way! You have to give a public apology now and give him compensation for his injuries.”  
  
“What? No way!”  
  
“Dean…that’s what a good king would do. Aren’t you trying to be that?”  
  
“No, Cas! That’s what my family wants me to be. I never wanted to rule! I don’t want to be a king! I want to invent things and work on the Impala. I don’t want to be a king who has to make decisions for an entire nation of people!”  
  
“Dean…”  
  
“Cas…I don’t wanna talk about this. I’m going to Angelz and I’m going to watch girls, because that’s what everyone expects of me now. I’ll be back.”  
  
He doesn’t wait for Cas’s response but just leaves the man behind. He manages to get past all of the security and then tiptoes into the garage, grabbing his Impala to drive off into the night. All that anger, all that rage is still boiling underneath the surface, so Dean grabs the ancient Zeppelin tape on the floor and shoves it into the player, blasting ‘When the Levee Breaks’ until he pulls up to the familiar strip club. It only takes an hour for Dean to be completely drunk, singing along with ‘Imaginary Lover’ on the karaoke machine while a brunette stranger eyes him from across the way. An hour after that Dean’s screwing away anything he felt from earlier and is retreating back into well known territory, the land of Dean Winchester the heterosexual. And when the night is over and Dean passes out at the bar, he doesn’t even protest when those familiar blue eyes find him and gently hoist him out of the chair. He doesn’t even complain when Cas buckles him into the Impala and drives him home, and he sure as hell doesn’t get all flustered when Cas drags Dean upstairs himself and tucks him into bed. The last thing Dean remembers is Cas whispering goodnight in his ear.  
  
  
  
The next month is filled with endless tension between Dean and well, basically everyone in his life. His parents found him the next day sporting a grand hangover, and that only added to their endless yelling about the incident with Metatron. His drinking habits, his one night stands with women, his disrespect for the country and his duty all led to a day full of Dean listening to endless rants from both his mother and father, telling him how disappointed they were in his actions. Dean didn’t even try to defend himself, half because he knew now that they were right and half because that hangover was all he could think about.  
  
What is even worse is Cas’s distance ever since that night. The man who picked up his sorry ass from a dirty strip club, the man who whispered in his ear and took care of him, the man who could’ve been a friend is gone now, replaced with the robotic Cas from before. Dean doesn’t blame him though; he wouldn’t want to be friends with himself after what happened at the ball.  
  
“Turn to page four-fifty-nine, Prince Winchester,” Cas says in a drawl one day, watching as Dean flips through the pages quickly and takes a swig of water. “And hurry it up, now will ya? I’ve got a date tonight and I can’t be late.”  
  
Dean practically spits out the water he’s drinking and stares at Cas. “Date? Since when do you date?”  
  
“My private life is none of your business, Dean. Now turn to page-“  
  
“Nope. You’re gonna have to give me your date’s name before that’s happening. C’mon, Cas! We were close to being friends once upon a time. Can’t we go back to that?”  
  
Cas peruses the question and leans back in his chair, as if Dean’s inquiry is a hard one. “You did go back and apologize…” Cas mutters, “and your family paid the compensation. I guess I don’t know why I’m still mad at you.”  
  
“Then don’t be mad at me, man. I can help you with your date, y’know. I’m pretty good at that,” he says slyly, but Cas doesn’t get the connotation behind it. “For example, you can’t go out like that.”  
  
Cas looks back at Dean with a confused expression. “Like what?”  
  
“Like you’re about to break out in the Carlton,” he replies, laughing at the argyle sweater Cas is wearing. “You’ve gotta be cool about it. Girls like that.”  
  
“First off, I don’t understand that reference,” Cas says as he throws Dean a little grin “and second, girls don’t have to like what I’m wearing because I’m going out with a guy.”  
  
At first Dean doesn’t think he hears Cas correctly. _Did Cas say that his date is a guy?_ He ignores the fact that his gut flips at the words.  
  
“I hope that wouldn’t be a problem for you after the spectacle you made at the ball,” Cas says in a low tone.  
  
“Uh…ah…no man, that’s great!” Dean says in a voice that is way too high pitched. “I just didn’t realize you were into guys, that’s all.”  
  
Cas grins and flips the book closed. “Okay, I’ll let you help me. I live in downtown Qual right off of Carver Way. Come by in a few hours and I’ll let you help me not look like a dork. Oh, and I’ll text your driver the address. You don’t want to be alone in downtown Qual after what happened. People either love you or loathe you down there and I don’t want you falling into the wrong hands. Bring a bodyguard, a driver-“  
  
“Cas! Quit worryin’ about me, okay? I can take care of myself.”  
  
Cas grins back and then gets up from his chair. “Okay, but when a mob of dewy-eyed teenage girls attack I will be there to say I told you so,” he teases.  
  
He lightly pushes Cas in the arm as he walks by. “Yeah yeah, we will see about that.”  
  
  
  
Okay, maybe Cas was right after all. He allowed Garth to drive him downtown, but the little chauffeur was no match for the mob of women (and a few men, Dean notices) who stand outside of Cas’s apartment. Apparently the word got out that he was going to be there, and the army was waiting to scream his name and fight their way to the front, all trying to get a glimpse of the playboy prince.  
  
“Everybody back up!” Garth commands in his drawling, Southern tone, but of course he’s tiny and is easily pulled into the fray of people. “Run, Dean!” he calls, and Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He fights through grabbing hands and bodies, reaching Cas’s apartment door just as one woman tries to take a picture of his escape. The door opens and Dean falls through onto an unsuspecting Cas, and their decent to the floor is caught by every camera in sight.  
  
“Dean…” Cas moans under his weight.  
  
He flips over quickly and kicks the door shut with his foot, pushing out all the “I love you, Prince Winchester!” calls outside. Dean takes in a big breath and lets it go, trying to calm down.  
  
“Well, what did I tell ya?” Cas says once he’s up off the floor, throwing one overly amused grin in Dean’s face.  
  
“Okay, you were right, Cas!” Dean admits, and he pumps his fist in the air with the victory. He can’t help but laugh at the gesture; it’s so unlike the robotic Cas he’s been used to over these past few weeks.  
  
“I’m always right,” Cas jokes, gesturing for Dean to follow him up the stairs and into the first bedroom. “But not when it comes to dates, apparently. Which outfit looks best? I can’t choose,” he pouts like a child.  
  
Dean looks down at all the options and laughs. “Cas…are you going for the holy tax accountant look? These are all lame!”  
  
Cas huffs out a breath and crosses his arms over his chest. “Then tell me what you want me to do, because these are the best options I have, Dean. And I really like this guy…” he trails off, his eyes falling to the ground.  
  
“I’m going into your closet,” Dean warns as he walks away from Cas, “and I’ll bet you fifty dollars that I find something amazing in here.”  
  
“Why do you believe that?” Cas asks.  
  
Dean grins as he paws through row upon row of white collared shirts and black pants. “Because you seem like the type of guy who has a hidden outfit for his wild side. And if I can just locate it…ah!” he calls when his fingers press against something leather, which reveals itself to be no other than a pair of tight fitting pants. He turns around and exits the closet with the garment in hand, and Dean wishes he had a camera so he could take a picture of Cas’s stunned face.  
  
“Uh…ah…those aren’t mine,” he admits as a furious red blush rises to his cheeks. “They actually belong to an ex boyfriend…”  
  
Dean’s ears perk up at this. “You’ve dated a man who wore these? Who?”  
  
“His name is Balthazar,” Cas says. “We dated for around a year before we broke up. Let’s just say that he was here the majority of the time and tended to leave things around. He never came back for these after the break up…” he trails off.  
  
Dean curls up the pants in his hand and throws them at Cas. “Then it’s the perfect opportunity to wear them out and get another guy. It would be the biggest ‘eff you’ to this Balthazar guy. He sounds like a dick anyway.”  
  
Cas catches them and glances at the pants curiously, turning them around in his hands. “Okay, if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll give it a try.”  
  
And then in an instant, Dean’s entire world changes. Cas gives Dean one little pout of his puppy dog lips before walking into the bathroom to change. He hears the annoyed groans as Cas tries to wiggle himself into the tight fitting garment, and Dean automatically braces himself for something ridiculous. But when Cas walks out of the bathroom and into the light of day, Dean’s jaw drops to the floor. The man is leaning against the door in nothing but those tight leather pants, the light enhancing the clear abs he has. Half of his body is thrown into shadow and his eyes gleam even bluer in the sunlight. Castiel Novak looks like an angel and Dean suddenly feels that familiar fluttering in his gut flame to life.  
  
“How do I look?” Cas asks, throwing Dean an absolutely sultry gaze.  
  
“I…uh…ah…” Dean stammers unintelligibly, stumbling back into the wall. His eyes follow the light down to Cas’s naked torso, and it takes all of his willpower to rip his gaze away from that body. Yes Dean realizes he is totally checking Cas out, but at that moment he forgets why he should care.  
  
“Is it too…out there?” Cas asks.  
  
“No, it’s great!” Dean says hastily, his eyes trying to look anywhere but at Cas’s ass when he pivots away from Dean and enters his closet.  
  
“Balthazar also left a shirt behind that goes with this. I think it will fit…”  
  
Dean doesn’t know what is exactly happening right now. It’s as if all those feelings, the ones that he shoved down after the ball, are coming back to the surface. Suddenly Dean isn’t thinking of the blonde he nailed at Angelz last night, but instead is imagining Cas in those leather pants nibbling at his neck, hands exploring his body, their lips crushing together…  
  
“Y’know, I think you’ll look fine, Cas!” Dean calls as he walks backwards, hitting a nightstand in the process. He ignores the pain that radiates from his leg and turns to find the door, grabbing the handle instantly. “I’ve got to go, buddy! Good luck on that date!”  
  
He briefly sees Cas popping his head out of the closet in a sinfully low cut white t-shirt, but Dean’s already out the door and is running outside into the throng of people, pushing past bodies until he reaches the awaiting limo from before. Somehow, Garth made his way back inside and Dean automatically calls for him the drive, trying desperately to ignore the heat in his stomach or the redness on his cheeks.  
  
When they pull up outside the castle, Dean doesn’t wait for Garth to even pull into the garage. He gets out and hits the ground running, trying to escape all of the unresolved feelings that are churning in his gut. He automatically feels like he needs a shower, so Dean takes the stairs two at a time as he dashes to his room. He turns the knob on the shower to scalding and sheds any piece of clothing, wanting that feeling of uncertainty off of his being. He wants to wash it all away, every thought about Cas in tight pants, every time he looked at Novak a bit too long, every touch Cas left on his being over these past few months. He wants to leave all of those feelings behind because that isn’t who Dean is. He’s a playboy; he gets with women for one night stands and never sees them again. He’s not a guy who has feelings, a guy who does relationships or anything close to it. He’s not a dude who is into other dudes…is he?  
   
Dean doesn’t care anymore. He gets into the shower and tries his best to forget. He’s heterosexual. He’s into women. He tries repeating the mantra over and over again in his head, wanting to push out any ideas of what he could have with Castiel.  
  
Yeah, he’s okay. Dean’s great. He’s a man who loves women, and if he spends a little extra time treating himself in the shower, it’s not because of a certain man in leather pants.  
  
  
  
_I wonder how Cas’s date went. Did his kiss the guy? Did they hit it off? Oh goodness, are they screwing? What if they already did?_  
  
Dean’s mind is on a constant loop as he thinks about how Cas’s date went that night. He doesn’t know why; didn’t he just establish that he isn’t into dudes? Cas can date whoever he wants; it’s none of Dean’s business. But then Dean’s mind fills with images of Cas, ones that he has repressed into the deepest part of his psyche. Suddenly that little grin Cas gets whenever Dean guesses right on a quiz question is freaking adorable, or the little caresses he’d leave on Dean’s skin after straightening his hunched form is completely mind blowing. His stomach is turning, his hands are shaking, and Dean doesn’t know what to do.  
  
He can’t sleep, at least not now. He jumps out of bed and paces the room, trying to push all of these new thoughts out of his head. But nothing works, and Dean only finds himself thinking of Cas more and more as the minutes tick by, his resolve fading quickly. It hits him all at once. He’s got a crush on Castiel Novak of all people, and Dean is completely and utterly screwed.  
  
“Sammy!” Dean calls loudly, not even caring if he wakes up the entire castle. “Sammy boy!”  
  
The door clicks open softly and a bleary-eyed Sam enters the room, bitchface strong as ever.  
  
“Dean…it’s one in the morning! Why aren’t you asleep?” he groans as he wipes his eyes, a yawn escaping his mouth.  
  
“Sammy…I need your help.”  
  
His brother automatically perks up at the request. “You do? About what?”  
  
Dean can’t believe he’s admitting this to his little brother, but he goes ahead anyway. “There’s this guy…”  
  
And then he’s talking about every little feeling he’s had for Cas over the past few months, every little caress that got his pulse pounding and his gut twirling. He replays all of their interactions, how he’s been in deep denial about his feeling for Cas. Dean let’s it all out, and his little brother listens intently as Dean goes on and on about things he’s suppressed for so long, finally letting these things called feelings come into the light of day.  
  
It isn’t until Dean’s done talking that Sam speaks. “Dean…you need to tell Cas how you feel.”  
  
Dean throws his brother a confused gaze. “What? I can’t just tell him that I have a crush on him, Sam! I will get laughed at; he doesn’t go for guys like me. That’s why I’m tellin’ you all of this. I just needed a place to vent it out and now I’m fine!”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean, you spent the better part of the night going on about how much you like Cas. You don’t think that Cas will like you back, but I’ve seen you two together and apart. Neither of you are as happy as you are when you’re together, and if you don’t tell that man you’re crazy for him then I will! Now go and tell him, Dean Winchester. Go.”  
  
Dean rubs a palm over his face. Of course Sam’s right; Sam’s always right. Without a second thought Dean pulls on the shoes that are laying by his bed and grabs his keys to the Impala.  
  
“Wait…I didn’t mean right now! It’s late! Dean…Dean!” Sam calls as he leaves the room, but he pays his brother no attention.  
  
He’s going to tell Castiel Novak that he likes him, and Dean is absolutely terrified.  
  
  


  
Dean pulls up outside of Cas’s apartment at two-fifteen AM. He managed to get past castle security again [and Dean makes a mental note to bring that up at the next round-table meeting his family holds every month] and got access to the Impala easily, driving out of the gates without a second glance back. His heart is pounding now, and his palms are sweating like crazy. He’s never done this before, has never told a person that he likes them. Now that he thinks about it, Dean hasn’t even been on a proper date before. All he’s ever done is have one night stands, and this whole new world of dating and relationships has got his stomach turning.  
  
He walks up to the door and automatically begins pounding on the wood. “Cas…Castiel! Open up…dammit!” he yells loudly, getting a few hollers from the people across the street.  
  
He doesn’t think Cas is going to answer, but soon enough the door flies open before his face and Castiel stands there in boxers and a loose fitting t-shirt.  
  
“…Dean? Are you drunk?” Cas asks quietly, gesturing for Dean to come inside.  
  
Dean shuts the door behind him and shakes his head. “I’m not drunk, Cas. I just need to tell you something. You…don’t have anyone upstairs with you?” Dean asks. He doesn’t want to spill his guts if Cas has his date sleeping in his bed.  
  
Cas laughs. “No, the date didn’t go as planned. He actually stood me up,” he replies a bit sadly.  
  
“Then he’s an idiot. You deserve better than that douchebag.”  
  
“I guess you’re right. I’m just beginning to wonder if there is anyone out there who wants a guy like me. I’m beginning to doubt it.”  
  
Dean walks forward and closes the personal space between him and Cas, their faces dangerously close together. “Cas…you’ve got me.”  
  
“I…what?” Cas gets out, his voice fluctuating in a way that makes Dean grin.  
  
“I want you, Cas. I need you. You deserve a guy who will treat you like you’re the best thing in the world and dammit, that’s how I feel about you. I…want to give us a chance. Do you?”  
  
Cas’s looks at Dean in absolute shock. At first Dean thinks Cas is going to turn him down, but a few seconds later Cas is closing the little space between them. Hot lips hit Dean’s and then everything is on fire. It’s just like he imagined; Cas’s hands come up to cup Dean’s face in his massive palms, and Dean kisses back with all the ferocity he can muster. He’s completely enraptured, totally consumed with an overwhelming feeling of love that when the kiss breaks apart he actually whines a little.  
  
“Dean Winchester…I’ve had a crush on you from that first day we met. Yes, let’s give us a chance.”  
  
Dean’s heart overflows with the words. “Really?”  
  
Cas just leans forward and pecks another kiss on his lips. “Yes, Dean. Will…you go out with me? he asks a bit timidly, and damn if it isn’t the cutest thing Dean’s ever seen.  
  
Dean throws an arm around Cas and leads him outside to the Impala. “Yeah Cas, that’d be great. How about watching the stars? We could go right now.”  
  
Cas looks at Dean and grins. “I don’t care. As long as I’m with you, everything is perfect.”  
  


 

**Five Years Later**

"Introducing your new King of Qual, your Majesty King Sam Winchester!"

The crowd breaks out into applause as Sam walks out of the tower entrance, adorned in red robes with a crown on his head. Sarah, his now wife, stands by his side in a gorgeous golden gown, her own crown slightly off-kilter. The people of Qual are going crazy, screaming Sam and Sarah's name as loud as they can. However, none of them match Dean's loud hollering, which drowns out any other sound in the room.

He has nothing but overflowing pride for his brother. After Cas and Dean got together there was an uproar in the kingdom. Cas didn't have a speck of royal blood in his line, and if Dean wanted to be king then there is no way he could be with Cas. He was left with a choice, but he didn't even need to think about it. Cas had slowly become the greatest thing in Dean's life, and he never truly wanted the crown anyway. So in one shocking declaration, Dean announced that he would be relinquishing his birthright to his younger brother. His parents did not approve at first, and the tabloids had a field day, but after a few weeks of careful consideration they accepted Dean's choice. That was five years ago, and now Dean stands here on the sidelines cheering on his little brother with Cas's fingers entwined with his. 

"Did you ever imagine we'd end up here?" Cas whispers in Dean's ear, causing him to grin like an idiot. Even after all this time, Cas's voice alone makes Dean blush.

"It never even crossed my mind back then, but I'm glad we're here now," Dean says.

Cas leans forward and pecks a little kiss on Dean's cheek. "I love you, Dean Winchester."

Dean turns towards Cas's face and lays a much more obvious kiss on his lips. "I love you too, Castiel Winchester. I'm glad you're my husband."

"Even though you had to sacrifice your kingship for it?"

"Cas, I never wanted it. Sam is going to be a great king and I'm proud of him. Besides, who knows what trouble we would've gotten Qual into if we were ruling," he jokes.

"Probably would've caused an uproar."

"So...you don't regret it? At all?" Cas asks timidly.

Dean pulls his husband into his arms. "Cas...I love you and I will never let you go. Not for a crown, or money, or a title, or anything. You're mine and I'm yours, forever."

Cas grins. "Forever?"

"Yeah Cas, forever."


End file.
